


Ishvalan Nights

by Captains_Orders



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Budding Romance, Fluff, M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captains_Orders/pseuds/Captains_Orders
Summary: In the slow rebuilding of Ishval there is much for Miles to learn about the culture of his grandfather. Tonight the lesson strays to stars, and perhaps more is to be learned on such a cool Ishvalan night.





	Ishvalan Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got around to finishing FMA Brotherhood and absolutely loving it. And to no ones surprise I ended up shipping Scar and Miles because I am nothing if not a predictable man.  
> I don't have much to give, but I present this meager offering to this unfortunately tiny ship. Hopefully there will be more to come one day.  
> Also apologies for any weird mistakes I may be a little inebriated at the moment...
> 
> Unbetad

Ishvalan nights, Miles has learned, were surprisingly cool. Nothing close to the bitter cold of the North, but it was far more tolerable than the harsh heat of the desert days. Years at Fort Briggs made him accustomed to the cold, but even after months of suffering Ishvalan weather his body had yet to fully acclimate. Now at least he could enjoy some comfort out in the dry air, marvel at the often clear skies and the thousands of stars dusting the night above, familiar and yet not. His grandfather had told him stories of the beauty of Ishval when he was a boy, and now that he’d seen it, lived in the land of his ancestors, he saw the truth behind every one of the old man’s words. 

He finds Scar in the usual place, sitting cross legged on a hill just outside of the slowly rebuilding city. Eyes closed and back straight Miles assumes it to be some sort of meditation, but he doesn’t yet know enough about the tradition of Ishvalan monks, warrior or no, to truly tell. Quiet steps are impossible with the crunching sand beneath his feet, but he manages to make an unobtrusive approach as he comes to stand beside the man.

“Do you need something, Major?” Scar doesn’t even look at him as he says it, and that tells Miles all he needs to know about this odd routine of theirs. 

“No, just wanted to enjoy the night air.” It's not a complete lie, and he enjoys the companionable silence they always seem to fall into while it lasts. 

“Do you know much about Ishvalan stars?” Miles looks down to meet Scar’s eyes, surprised to say the least that the man would start any sort of conversation. If anything it was usually the other way around. They’re the same stars that twinkle faintly over Amestris, but Miles understands his meaning.

“My grandfather taught me some when I was growing up, but admittedly I’ve forgotten most of the Ishvalan meanings,” he replies. Scar hums, a thoughtful look crossing his face for a moment before it settles on something determined. 

"If you are to help rebuild this country you should know the stars of your ancestors,” Scar says, almost encouraging. “Sit, I’ll teach you.” Miles gives him a long look, unable to find anything but an honest willingness to help, something he still hadn’t quite gotten used to. But the opportunity to connect with that part of his lineage is impossible to pass up, so with nothing better to do Miles sits, legs stretched out in front of him across the cool ground. 

“I remember the Hand Of God,” Miles says, searching for it’s guiding star amongst it's countless comrades. It’s been too long since he’s actively looked for constellations, and he gives up quickly. “In Amestris we call it The Ladle.” Scar grunts without comment and with a quick scan of the sky points it out above the horizon with his right hand. 

“There, high above the horizon.” With his left hand Scar smoothes the dirt between them and begins pressing patterns into the dirt, the stars that make up the constellation and the lines that connect them, surrounded by a fairly decent outline of the constellations meaning. “It sits above Piety, the outstretched hands of man.” He draws a second similar connection of dots, though the outline is slightly different. 

“That one’s the Little Ladle…” He mumbles, almost sheepish about admitting the meaning. Scar grunts and wipes away his art before he begins marking the dirt with the next set of stars. 

“Ferocity, the dragon that watches from above, it was once a symbol of strength when it rested overhead.”

“We call that one a dragon as well.” 

“And what meaning does it hold for you?”

“Strength, and also the symbol for the State Alchemists.” Scar stills, head bowed so that the night shadows hide his face from view and Miles almost feels regret for the sudden tense silence.

“I suppose that fits, it has a darker meaning now,” Scar replies quietly before he moves on, pointing out something new as his hand clears the way for his next lesson.

Time passes slowly, and they must sit there for at least an hour, Scar drawing in the sand as he watches on, and learns the deeper meaning of the stars, the same stars his grandfather once saw. The last comes as one of the rare familiar configuration he recognizes. 

“I know those stars,” he says, unable to hide the flicker of excitement. His own knowledge has been so sparse throughout this impromptu lesson that he can’t help but point it out. Scar is still working studiously on his outline, and Miles turns his attention back to the sky, determined to search out the familiar constellation before Scar finishes with his work. He finds the constellation he’s looking for once he’s shifted around, facing South towards the softly lit city instead of the long desert. “There! Where I grew up they were called the Twins.” He looks over at Scar, waiting eagerly for the Ishvalan meaning. The large man has his head bowed again, almost eerily quiet as he finishes drawing in the dirt. 

“They are not known as twins to us,” Scar says as he connects the last part of the outline. “We call them the Eternal Lovers, those who bring the horizon together with their embrace.” Scar lifts his hand away from the image he’s made, detailed enough to reveal the two figures wrapped together in an intimate embrace. Definitely not the same meaning. 

“Huh, that’s different.” He looks back up at Scar who has finally raised his head, expression strained. “Are you alright?” The question seems to make things worse, and even with the low light he can see the way Scar’s cheeks darken.

“Forgive me,” the man stammers, large hands balling into fists on his thighs. “They are only sought by two people who seek luck in such matters, that was not my intention.” Miles blinks, brows raising as the meaning dawns on him. Words fail him for a moment, any sort of clever response gone at the sight of Scar looking almost vulnerable. 

Would that really be so bad? He wonders, if that were the reason for this. Miles feels his own cheeks warm at the thought. He plucks his shades from his uniform pocket out of habit and puts them on before realizing his folly in the dark and returning them to their place with as much grace as his embarrassment will allow. Finally he manages to compose himself, even as Scar appears to be shrinking in on himself internally, an unsettling state for a man he’s known only to be sure and strong. 

“There are easier ways to drop a hint you know,” he says, surprisingly smooth even as his heart races with nerves, risky words he’d hardly thought to hold. Scar finally meets his gaze, eyes wide with surprise before something akin to understanding settles across his face, the tense set of his shoulders leaving him in a long exhale. 

“Is that so, Major?” Instead of answering he claps the larger man on the shoulder and stands before the touch can linger, dusting off his uniform as best he can. 

“Come on, it's late, we can talk once we’re back in town.”

“If that is what you wish,” Scar replies, and he can hear the man stand and brush away the dirt as well, a solid warm presence almost too close behind him. Miles starts forward before he can do anything rash, and together they walk back to the sleeping city, the stars shining brightly above them.


End file.
